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Crowley wore his sunglasses for a few reasons.
The first time Aziraphale had asked, he had told him that he didn’t want people asking questions and didn’t want to bother with miracling his eyes to look human. This was true. The next time, when Aziraphale had brought up the fact that he wore them even when it was just the two of them, Crowley had said that he thought they looked cool. This was also true. He just hoped that Aziraphale didn’t ask him again, because he very much didn’t want to tell him the last reason, which was that sometimes he didn’t want Aziraphale to see how little attention he was paying to what he was saying.
It wasn’t that Crowley didn’t want to listen to Aziraphale, or that he didn’t care. It was just that sometimes he got distracted. Aziraphale would be rambling on about something, some first edition book he’d found or new restaurant he’d heard about, and Crowley would be too busy staring at his lips forming the words to actually register what they were.
Even when he was paying attention to Aziraphale, Crowley liked having the glasses to hide behind, because sometimes the angel would say something ridiculous and stupid and precious and he would have to pretend he wasn’t so head over heels in love with him that he felt like he might die. Instead he would scoff and respond, snarky and flippant, trusting the dark lenses to hide the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his pupils dilated ever so slightly.
“Crowley?”
Sprawled languidly across the couch in the back room of Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley looked over to where the angel was sitting in his favorite armchair and made a noise of acknowledgement.
“Can I ask you something?”
He swung his gangly legs down and faced Aziraphale expectantly. “Yeah, ‘course.”
“Is it strange not having any arms or legs when you're a snake?”
Crowley blinked, knowing quite well that Aziraphale couldn't see it but also knowing that he had just been asked a ridiculous question and that he would be unable to answer it without first physically acknowledging that fact.
“Angel, what are you on about?”
Aziraphale flushed a little bit. “You know. When you’re…” he gestured vaguely. “A snake. You don't have limbs.”
Crowley rose and began to walk over to him, staring at him from behind those dark glasses, so thankful that Aziraphale couldn't see the immense affection in his eyes. The last thing he needed was the angel knowing how much Crowley loved it when he was unabashedly stupid.
“No,” he said slowly. “I don't.”
Aziraphale stared up at him, the flush still spreading across his cheeks in response to Crowley’s practiced derisive tone and the way he was standing over him but resolute in this inane pursuit of knowledge. “Is it strange?”
“No,” Crowley answered again, earnestly. “Not really. I never thought much about it.”
Aziraphale looked satisfied with the answer. Crowley cocked his head to the side.
“...why?”
If it was possible to blink guiltily, that’s what Aziraphale did, averting his gaze from Crowley’s sunglasses and looking resolutely past him into the room.
“Just curious.”
Crowley was enjoying this reaction immensely. “What made you think of it?” he pressed, keeping his voice casual in the hopes that Aziraphale wouldn’t realize how much fun he was having. He couldn't help it. He liked watching the angel get flustered, especially when he was the cause.
Aziraphale pursed his lips.
“Well, if you must know,” he said, looking as though he would quite rather not be talking, “I was looking at how you were sitting, and thinking that you use your limbs quite a bit. The way they’re all…” he gestured vaguely again. “Spread out, you know. And so, I was thinking about how, if you’re a snake…”
He kept rambling, but Crowley had stopped listening after the angel admitted he had been musing over his body language. He put so much stock in his sunglasses he sometimes forgot that there was a lot more of him that could hint at certain things, like how he lounged across Aziraphale’s couch because he felt completely and wholly safe around him.
Perhaps at some point, the spread legs and laissez-faire demeanor might have been intended as a subtle invitation, hinting at something lecherous, but over time Crowley had just gotten used to sitting that way around Aziraphale and had come to find it comfortable. The vulnerability of closing one’s eyes and stretching out in front of one’s hereditary enemy was objectively irresponsible at best, but Crowley knew by this point that Aziraphale would never hurt him.
Realizing that Aziraphale noticed the way he sat had thrown him off somewhat, but he was still comforted by a reasonable surety that the angel had no idea about any of the meaning behind it.
Coming back to himself, Crowley noticed that Aziraphale had trailed off and was now looking up at him again, blue eyes flicking back and forth between dark lenses, searching for a sign that might tell him what Crowley was thinking. He wouldn't find one. Not when the sunglasses were still on.
Crowley took them off.
He placed them on the table next to Aziraphale’s armchair, never looking away from the angel, whose eyes widened as he took in the wealth of new information provided to him.
“Angel?”
“Yes?”
“You're an idiot.”
Aziraphale looked as though he would rather like to protest, but before he could even open his mouth he found it quite occupied as Crowley surged forward, bending his sinewy body down to where Aziraphale was sitting and kissing him with the force of a dam breaking. He would have pulled away to make sure that he wasn’t overstepping if Aziraphale hadn’t immediately made that noise , deep in his throat, and grabbed Crowley’s shirt and pulled him forward so that he stumbled into his lap.
There were nice things about having limbs, Crowley thought somewhere far in the back part of his brain that wasn't consumed by the manicured nails digging into his hips and the tongue making its way into his mouth. They allowed him to do things he otherwise couldn't, like plant his knees on either side of his angel and grind down on him and grab his stupid, wonderful face and slide his hand into his hair and tug and oh , that was a beautiful sound.
Crowley bit down on Aziraphale’s lower lip and tugged, earning him a shiver and a hand slipping down from his waist to his ass, grabbing and tugging him closer. He broke the kiss with a gasp as his hips moved of their own volition.
“Fuck,” Aziraphale rasped, his eyes fluttering open to meet Crowley’s, and if Crowley had more presence of mind he would probably have been embarrassed by the whine that wrenched itself from his throat. As it was, he slid his hands down to the angel’s bow tie, his chest already heaving as he stared down at the knot. His fingers twitched.
“Can I—”
“Yes. Please.” He sounded as wrecked as Crowley felt and the demon fell upon him. The hand that was not currently leaving finger-shaped bruises on his ass came up to fist in the front of his shirt and yanked him forwards and they were kissing again as Crowley deftly undid the knot and tossed the strip of fabric to the side.
Crowley was barely halfway through unbuttoning Aziraphale’s waistcoat when the angel grunted impatiently and brought his other hand up, grabbing the other side of Crowley’s shirt and tearing it open in one fantastic motion that had Crowley making a choked sound into his mouth. He pushed it off of his shoulders, the hot path of his hands against the demon’s skin eliciting another whimper as he deposited the shirt onto the floor.
His angel was full of surprises, Crowley thought hazily, before one hand slid down his back and returned to its earlier death grip on his ass and the other twisted in his hair and pulled his head back and there were lips on his neck and he completely lost the ability to think anything at all.
Aziraphale started slowly, laying open-mouthed kisses down the side of Crowley’s neck and making his breath catch, until he reached the base of his throat. He laved his tongue over the spot before scraping his teeth over the delicate skin and sucking. Crowley shuddered, his trembling hands pausing in their valiant attempt to continue undressing the angel and grabbing onto the velvet for dear life as he moaned in earnest.
Aziraphale kissed the bruise he had left and Crowley let out a slow hiss. His breathing grew ragged as Aziraphale bit and kissed his way across his neck, chest, collarbones, leaving an array of dark shadows and teeth marks behind and making Crowley squirm and pant and whimper.
The hand in Crowley’s hair slid down his spine, coming to toy with the waistband of his pants as Aziraphale finished sucking a final bruise into Crowley’s chest and settled back into the armchair to make it easier for Crowley to finish unbuttoning his waistcoat, then his shirt. He watched Crowley intently as he focused on his task, his eyes flicking over the demon’s swollen mouth and flushed chest peppered with grainy purple marks. Once all the buttons were undone, he leaned forward again, allowing Crowley to remove his clothes and carefully drop them onto the floor beside the chair.
Crowley ran his hands down Aziraphale’s chest, and the way he twitched and shuddered as his fingers brushed over his collarbones and nipples and ribs made Crowley’s whole body feel like a live wire. He splayed his fingers across the angel’s sternum and pushed him back into the chair, hovering over him and kissing him long and slow before sliding his hands back to Aziraphale’s ribcage and raking his fingernails down, making him rut against him as a strangled gasp wrenched its way from his mouth.
His hands flew to grab Crowley’s wrists, sending a flash of heat through his whole body which was only amplified as Aziraphale rolled his hips up, dragging a groan from Crowley’s throat.
“Do that again,” he whispered against Aziraphale’s lips, and he acquiesced instantly, tightening his grip as he did so. Crowley pulled away from his mouth to stifle a moan into the crook of his neck.
He pressed kisses into the angel’s skin between whines and muttered expletives. Aziraphale continued to move against him, still holding Crowley’s wrists firmly as his fingers trembled and curled against his torso.
One particularly frantic thrust had Crowley’s spine arching as he sank his nails into Aziraphale’s flesh. The angel groaned and let go of his wrists in favor of grabbing Crowley’s shoulders, pulling him up so that he could see his face before he skimmed his hands down his body, hooking his fingers in his belt loops and silently asking permission.
Crowley nodded, and his pants vanished with a thought, as did all the other clothing he was still wearing. Aziraphale ran his fingertips over Crowley’s hipbones with something like rapture, tearing his gaze away from all of the newly exposed skin to stare up at Crowley’s eyes. Crowley knew that the yellow of his irises was bleeding out the way it always did when he lost control and that he was looking at Aziraphale like he was the only thing in the whole world that mattered and also like he would very much like him to stop teasing and get on with it already.
Aziraphale seemed to understand all of this. He brought one hand up to stroke Crowley’s face, pulling him down into a tender kiss as his other hand slipped down past the curls at the base of his stomach to trace a circle around his clitoris. Crowley broke the kiss with a sob, grinding down against Aziraphale’s fingers and gripping his shoulder and wrist so tightly that his knuckles started going white.
He nudged Aziraphale’s hand further back before releasing his wrist and grabbing at his hip to anchor himself as Aziraphale slid a finger inside of him, quickly followed by another. He hooked his fingers up and swiped his thumb across Crowley’s clit and Crowley’s head tipped back, a groan spilling out of his throat and his eyes squeezing shut.
Aziraphale kept moving his hand, fucking Crowley with his fingers, and when Crowley wrenched his eyes open Aziraphale was staring at him with such want that he moaned again just at the sight of him and leaned forward to kiss him, rolling his hips to adjust to the new angle and oh , that felt good.
“Bed?” Aziraphale breathed.
Crowley’s hips jolted. “What’s wrong with here?” he choked out, thoroughly distracted by the angel’s fingers pressing into a spot inside him that made his legs shake.
Aziraphale flushed, dragging his gaze down the length of Crowley’s body and back up to meet his eyes. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “I’d quite like to get my mouth on you, if that’s alright, and I can't do that here.”
With those words, Crowley’s brain popped and fizzled right out. Distantly, he heard himself say “Fuck, ‘if that’s alright,’ yes, shit, bed, please.” Aziraphale withdrew his fingers and Crowley whined at the feeling before his attention was entirely diverted by the angel placing both hands under his ass and picking Crowley up. He wound his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and his legs around his torso, burying his burning face in Aziraphale’s shoulder as the angel rose and carried him up the stairs to his bedroom.
Aziraphale untangled himself from Crowley’s limbs and laid him down on the bed, where he crawled backwards until his head rested on the pillows, his legs spreading as he watched Aziraphale’s face. He was still standing, slightly hunched, staring at Crowley with something between reverence and hunger.
Crowley continued to watch as the angel climbed slowly onto the bed after him and knelt between his legs. He could feel Aziraphale’s pulse in his fingertips as he pressed his legs further apart, guiding one calf over his shoulder and bending down to press a gentle kiss to Crowley’s inner thigh before biting down and sucking another bruise into his skin while he whined and twisted his hands into the sheets.
Running his fingers gently over Crowley’s lips, Aziraphale followed his hand with a trail of kisses down from where the dark hair on Crowley’s stomach began, and Crowley squirmed as the angel kissed his clitoris before stroking it with his tongue. Crowley’s hands left the sheets and tangled in Aziraphale’s hair, encouraging him to wrap his lips around Crowley’s clit and suck.
Crowley keened, his thighs twitching and trembling and his grip tightening on the angel’s curls. Aziraphale stroked his skin soothingly with his thumb as he moved his mouth downwards and then licked a broad stroke over Crowley’s vulva that had him gasping for air he didn’t technically even need. Aziraphale swirled his tongue back over Crowley’s clit before fucking it up into him and Crowley’s back arched as he cried out wordlessly, grinding up against the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale’s grip tightened on his thigh as he twisted his tongue and pulled a desperate sob from Crowley.
The sound prompted a low moan from Aziraphale, and one of Crowley’s arms flew up to dig his fingers into the pillow as another jolt of pleasure racked his body at the sensation. Aziraphale continued to work his tongue against Crowley, and he could swear he felt the angel grin smugly against him at the broken murmurs and sighs he pulled from the demon’s throat.
Aziraphale dragged his tongue back up to Crowley’s clit and slid two fingers back into him. Crowley gasped, throwing his head back against the pillow as Aziraphale pressed his fingers towards his navel and flicked his tongue over Crowley’s clitoris and Crowley came with a breathless cry of “Angel!”
Stroking his shaking thighs, Aziraphale worked him through it, licking and sucking at him as his body trembled with aftershocks. He continued his ministrations until Crowley tugged on his hair, at which point he lifted his head and wiped the come off of his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. Crowley whimpered and pulled him up on top of him so that he could kiss him.
Despite his unsteady fingers, Crowley made short work of the buttons on Aziraphale’s fly. He could hear Aziraphale’s shoes hit the floor as he kicked them off so he could help Crowley slide his pants and underwear off his legs and into a pile at the foot of the bed, and in return Crowley silently did him the favor of miracling away his socks.
Crowley’s hands slithered feather-light over Aziraphale’s skin and the angel’s breath faltered, catching completely when Crowley touched his cock, a tentative brush of fingers, and then slowly curled his hand around it and stroked. Aziraphale’s head dropped down and he sank his teeth into Crowley, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the instinct to snap his hips forward. Crowley kept his strokes even and his grip steady, savoring the chance to get the angel even a fraction as debauched as he was.
He thumbed over the head of Aziraphale’s cock and drank in the moan that tumbled out of his mouth before he was taken quite by surprise as Aziraphale rolled onto his back, fingers digging into Crowley’s flesh as he pulled him roughly along with him. Crowley looked down at the angel, at his parted lips, his heaving chest, his cock, still hard in Crowley’s moving hand, his body bracketed between Crowley’s lean thighs.
Aziraphale’s hand came up to encircle Crowley’s wrist, his touch gentle and in such opposition to his gunmetal stare, and Crowley’s hand stilled. The angel’s hands slipped up to Crowley’s hips, fingertips denting the flesh there, and he sucked in a breath.
“Crowley,” he murmured, “Crowley, my dear, would you—”
“Yes, yes, anything." He knew what Aziraphale was asking, knew what he wanted, and he trembled at the thought of giving it to him. He lifted himself on shaking legs, Aziraphale’s hands steady on his skin, and sank down onto the angel’s cock with a hiss.
Crowley wasn’t sure whose moan it was that tore through the silence of the room. He shifted his body, adjusting to the feeling, and Aziraphale made a soft noise as his fingers curled, his blunt nails pressing into Crowley’s skin. He guided the demon’s body up and back down, setting a rhythm that Crowley maintained as Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut.
His returning thrusts were shallow and slow, but Crowley could feel the want that thrummed just beneath the angel’s skin, the way his hips twitched with the effort of governing his movements, how careful he was being not to hurt him, how gentle.
It was endearing, but unnecessary, Crowley decided. He wanted to see the angel let go.
“You don’t have to hold back.”
Aziraphale’s hips stuttered. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure, Aziraphale. You won’t break me.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Well, you might. But I want you to. I want you to fuck me, angel.”
Aziraphale snapped his hips upward and Crowley yelped. Before Aziraphale could even think to stop, he slammed down onto him and Aziraphale moaned, bucking his hips upward again and holding Crowley in place with a punishing grip. Crowley whined, squirming as he attempted to meet Aziraphale’s thrusts with all the force that his weak legs could provide.
“Is this alright, my dear?”
It took Crowley a moment to remember how to form words. His eyes were screwed shut.
“Yes, fuck, don’t stop, please, harder."
Aziraphale groaned and did as he asked, finally letting go and fucking him with abandon. Crowley was buffeted by the force of it. All he could do was hold on, clawing at Aziraphale’s soft skin and letting everything fall away but the feeling of the angel’s hands on his hips and cock sliding through him and the labored sound of their breathing.
Crowley pried his eyes open and the sight of Aziraphale sent a shiver through him. His hair was a mess, there were red lines down his ribcage from Crowley’s nails, and he was staring at Crowley through half-lidded eyes as though he had never seen a more beautiful sight. The intensity of his gaze and the unrestrained tempo of his hips was too much for Crowley and as Aziraphale pushed in to the hilt he came, again, hard. Aziraphale started to slow his thrusts and Crowley, still quivering, forced himself to speak.
“Don’t stop.”
Aziraphale didn’t.
Crowley could feel Aziraphale start to tremble, his movements growing erratic before his fingernails dug into Crowley’s flesh in a way that would certainly leave marks and he came with a hollow cry. Crowley moaned at the feeling of it, collapsing boneless against Aziraphale’s chest as he pulled out and miracled away the mess with a lazy flourish.
They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, their breathing returning to normal. Crowley rolled off of Aziraphale and hit the mattress heavily, stretching out his slack limbs and enjoying what he knew would be a lingering soreness. He looked over and the angel was staring shamelessly at him with such immeasurable fondness that Crowley’s heart jumped and he pulled himself closer, curling up against him and indulging the exhaustion that weighed down his whole body.
His last thought before he fell asleep in Aziraphale’s arms was that he was never wearing his sunglasses in the bookshop again.